Spoiler Stories From Beyond the Grave
by DIY Sheep
Summary: These are little vignettes inspired by spoilers about up coming episodes that are abounding on the Interweb – cos even if they aren't true, it is just fun to imagine the dialogue.
1. Chapter 1

Spoiler Stories from Beyond the Grave or Monkey Time

**WARNING DANGER WILL ROBINSON DANGER!!!**

These are little vignettes inspired by spoilers about up coming episodes (that may or may not be true) abounding on the Interweb – cos it is just fun to imagine the dialogue.

Don't piss off your clinic patient if they are a cop:

"You are under arrest."

"Oh come on," he said in disbelief. "Look I'm sorry about the exam thing okay? How about I bring you some donuts tomorrow and we call it a night?"

"You are now also charged with attempting to bribe a police officer and resisting arrest."

He looked at the guy in disbelief. "I'm a cripple dude." He waggled the cane. "Do you really think I am going to run away?"

But the guy didn't get the joke. In fact he looked down right scary.

"Drop the cane, put your hands on your head and turn around now."

He looked into the other man's eyes. Jesus, this bastard was serious. And he was bigger than him. And he was a cop: a fact he wished he'd known before, so he probably had a gun. He let the cane go, wincing as he heard it hit the pavement.

Not taking his eyes off the cops he slowly put his hands on his head and then turned around, waiting. Come on you bastard, get this over with. Have your fun. But he couldn't help taking a deep breath when he felt the cop grab his wrist and roughly frisk him. Hoboy he thought as his arms were pulled behind him. This is real.

"So how are you going to get the cripple into the car now?" he asked, motioning toward his discarded cane.

The cop grabbed a handful of the collar of his motorcycle jacket and pulled him up a good few inches. "Well," he said softly into his right ear. "Either you walk or I drag you. Take your pick."

Bastard. "I'll walk."

…

Wilson to the rescue (as usual) and bails House out:

"What took you so long? God the singing guy was driving me mad."

"I normally don't have 15 grand floating around in my loose change jar."

"Didn't I tell you: you should always keep a 'get Greg out of jail' stash?

"But you haven't been arrested in years, well a couple of years."

"Not that you know of anyway."

"What!"

"You were away at a conference." House paused. "And I am so not paying you back."

…

Always come clean with your boss (but not when she is hitting the frozen yogurt):

"He told me."

"Who told you and what did he tell you?"

"Did you get arrested?"

"Let me guess. Rectal Thermometer Guy has been back again. Relax, he just pulled me over for speeding. It was no big deal."

"That's not what he says."

"He's a bully," he whined. "He tripped me and made me fall and everything."

"And like you don't bully people?"

"I'm a cripple. How can I beat up people?"

"You do have a great big stick you carry around with you all the time," she said dryly.

"But it's a 'stick of love'."

She sighed. And I know exactly where to stick it. "Please tell me you are not."

"Not doing what?"

"Well I'm not prescribing for you and neither," She paused for effect. "To my knowledge is Wilson."

Oh shit.

"You don't know everything."

"So is Wilson prescribing for you?"

"Yes."

"If I ask him that will he says yes too?"

"Maybe."

"What do you mean maybe?"

"House," she warned.

"Depends where he is, when you ask him and how fast I am."

She put her hands in her head. "Oh God House no, and I thought the carpet thing was bad."

…

The cop finds like millions of Vicodin:

He looked around at the devastation that was his apartment. He'd been made to watch as the cop had systematically destroyed his apartment. Now the big cop bully was standing in front of him waggling his precious coveted stash of Vicodin and looking at him disapprovingly. He reminded him of his father.

"Far far too many drugs here Doctor House."

He forced himself to stay still as the cop walked slowly around and stood behind him. The bastard was really enjoying this, but this time he knew the drill.

"Are you going to resist this time?"

He looked down, glancing at his cane on the couch wondering if he could get to it in time. "No," he said.

"No Officer."

He gritted his teeth. "No Officer."

He didn't listen as he heard the cop spouting off the usual words as he handcuffed him, something about fraud and possession with intent to sell and supply, but he blanched as the cop said that he would have to talk to Doctor Wilson. He looked round at the cop, saw his smug look and realised that he had begun to sweat.


	2. Chapter 2

Wilson is drawn into the mess:

"They have frozen my bank accounts."

"Can they do that?"

"If they suspect you of drug dealing – yes."

"When will they unfreeze them?"

"When I help them to send you to jail for the next ten years." He looked over at the man currently eating his sandwich: "And right now it's very tempting," he said pointedly.

It had the desired effect. House stopped and looked over at him, bits of sandwich filling falling out. "Really?" House actually looked a little quizzical, as if he was puzzled by why the man who's sandwich he was currently eating would rat him out.

Wilson grabbed a bit of onion that had fallen onto the plate and stuck it in his mouth. "But if I did that - then who would I have to buy lunch for?"

"Cool, wanna come to Atlantic City?"

Wilson sighed. "House this is not a joke. Couldn't you have just come to me and asked me for them instead of stealing them? Can't you do anything like a normal person?"

"Nope."

"Seriously man – why?"

House put down the sandwich and looked at him. "Why? Because then we'd be back to all the usual bullshit of you doing your best to look out for your drug addled friend. You and Cuddy treating me like junkie not a human being in pain." He picked at the sandwich and spoke to that. "You don't know what it's like."

"And now?" Asked Wilson.

"You covered for me so Bully Boy can't touch me... so Atlantic City looks like a good option huh. You, me, Coma Guy and a big cliff."

"I am not re-enacting Thelma and Louise with you."

"Spoil sport. I'd let you be Louise."

"Was she the one with the headscarf and the glasses?"

"So you."


	3. Chapter 3

Hello Spoilerites

Time is relative at PPTH, lunch time doubly so, and apparently so are spoilers. These bits are taken from info about what could be episodes 5 to 13 or 14 and trying to keep them in chronological order is driving me batty. So now each spoiler has its own chapter and it is up to us to work out where possibly could have gone when the shows actually airs.

* * *

Finding Judas isn't as easy as finding Nemo:

"It's Chase. It always is."

Wilson sighed into his beer. "Right, just like it is always the butler in the conservatory with the poker."

House sighed mournfully. "How many times do I have to tell you – that is Colonel Mustard. I really must buy you a Cleudo set."


	4. Chapter 4

A beautiful lady knows something that could be dangerous:

"I don't think she believes me."

"Well, it was a crappy lie."

"I'm sorry, but it was the best I could come up on the spur of the moment to explain why your grubby paw prints were all over my prescription pad." He held up his left hand. "I am a southpaw remember. How many years have you known me?" He took another swig of his beer. "Jesus House, if you were going to forge my name at least do it properly. I thought you were cleverer than that."

House cringed. "There is something else too."

"What else did you do?" said Wilson tiredly.

"I might have told her what I did."

"Oh Christ House." He turned to his friend. "How many times have we discussed this? If you break the law or do bad things you do not go hiring billboards or take out radio spots to tell people about it."

"So what do we do?"

"Well that's it. We are just going to have to kill her now."


	5. Chapter 5

When the cop suggests House gets help for his addiction he throws him out of his office:

"Hello Doctor House. Or Greg. May I call you Greg," he said as he sat on the edge of House's desk? The man had a big bum thought House petulantly.

"Doctor House will do fine."

"So Greg… I have some questions about your relationship with Doctor Wilson. Wanna answer them here, or…" he waved a hand… "Somewhere else."

He swallowed. He knew what that meant. "Here is fine," he said dropping his pen. He looked up at Bully Boy. "So, what do you want to know?"

"Doctor Wilson is your prescribing doctor?"

He stood up. "Yes he is and you leave him alone. In case you forgot it is me you are trying to get."

The cop looked down and took a deep breath. He didn't seem as angry as he had been.

"Have you even thought about rehab? You have a problem."

Fuck you, you self righteous bastard. You have no idea what it is like.

He put his hands on his head. "You either arrest me again or you get the hell out of my office – Officer Tritter Sir." He turned around and waited.

He could have sworn he felt the hands and heard the cuffs, but eventually he realised there was nothing but silence. He looked around. The cop had gone. He collapsed over the desk. He noticed his knuckles were shaking.

He went home that night to his apartment. It was still a shambles. He hadn't bothered to fix it up. He looked at it and decided tonight was a good night to get stinking drunk.


	6. Chapter 6

Cameron is annoyed House is in court, not saving the patient:

"Doctor House, I will hold you in contempt of court if you do not come back here."

"People dying." He glanced over at the cop. "Much more important than this."

He smiled at the judge before slipping out the doors. "Sorry, gotta go."

…

"You brought this on yourself."

"Gee, and I didn't realise. All along I thought it was the large pissed off cop who has been hounding me."

"You have a duty to your patient…" she started.

"Hey I busted out to be here. I think I am a wanted man – like Doctor Kimble."

He could be so melodramatic sometimes. "What time will you be back tomorrow?" She asked.

So totally the only child, no matter what she said. "Cameron: I probably won't be back… ever." He made for the door. "So it is up to you, Pinky and the Brain to figure it out. Send me a postcard courtesy of Trenton."

She realised he was serious. "House." He stopped. She went over to him. "Jesus House," she said as she put her arms around him.

He gently pulled her off him. "Oh go save a puppy or something," he said quietly. He turned to go, but then rounded on her. "And do a PCP test for the upper fifth and seventh quadrants, that'll give you your answer."


	7. Chapter 7

Don't annoy the judge or you get contempt:

"At least I only got ten days, not ten years of monkey time," said House.

Cuddy frowned. "Monkey time?"

By way of explanation he tapped the bars separating them. "A civilized society does not lock its citizens up like monkeys. Got any bananas?"

Wilson cut in. "House, you do realise that if we had a camera we could take photos of you now and make a fortune on ebay?"

"Why does everyone want to see me locked up?"

Cuddy sighed. "House, it's been a dream of quite a lot of people for a number of years."

"But there is the copyright issue." He looked thoughtful. "You cut me in for fifty percent and you have a deal," said House.


	8. Chapter 8

House in rehab:

He walked in and just stood there in the middle of the room as the door shut behind him. He shivered. Somehow that made it all terribly real.

He looked around. At least Cuddy had arranged solitary for him. That was either nice of her or a sensible precaution. He limped slowly and painfully to the bed, very aware of how much his leg was hurting. It wasn't going to stop anytime soon and there was nothing he could do or say to make it stop hurting. At this point no one would believe him. So he did the only thing he could do. He sat down, looked at it and wished it wasn't there.

But sometimes wishes don't come true.

He was still sitting there when Wilson was let in.

"This is nice."

"Yeah, real nice."

…

Damn that Cuddy. She hadn't taken any chances. Not just two but three large burly orderlies made sure he got there on time without any 'accidents', 'mishaps' or 'mysterious goings off of the fire alarm'.

So now he was sitting here on a crappy plastic chair in 'group' – probably one of the most hideous horrible things ever to have been invented by those wanna be psychiatrists. If it was one thing he hated more than surgeons, nurses, interns, candy stripers, patients and patients loved ones – it was psychologists.

…

She looked up from her paperwork as he came in. "How did you get out?"

He drew himself up and struck a theatrical pose. "I am the mysterious Gregdini."

Her eyes narrowed. "You've been raiding the patients' drugs haven't you?" She came around, pulled out a penlight and shone it in his eyes. His pupils were dilated.

He grinned lopsidedly. "It's boring down there in lovey lovey land."

"Do you want me to tell the police and let them cart you off to jail?"

"Oh come on – you are my protector," he proclaimed as he put his hand on his heart. But her next words shocked him.

"I didn't do it for you."

He looked back at her, suddenly sober. "What?"

"I did it for Wilson," she continued. "He lied for you and he would have lost everything. You, on the other hand threw everything away years ago."

"I still have Wilson."

"Yes," she said sadly. " And I have never been able to work out why. Now get back to where you are meant to be."

He left her office and wandered around restlessly, finally settling in the pediatrics lounge. He stayed there for a long time, thinking. He didn't really notice when they came for him, picked him up and took him back to his room.

After they had dutifully punished him with a day in the 'time out room' (fucking psychologists) he was assigned an orderly to him whenever he was out of his room, but he had lost the desire to escape. He was tired of this all. The joke was over. Could he please just go back to his life now?

He and 'Brutal', as he had named him, were in the rehab courtyard when a shadow fell across him.

"Swapping one addiction for another I see," said Wilson looking at the cigarette he was smoking.

"Good for constipation."

Wilson nodded towards the leg. The treacherous stupid fucking leg that was throbbing away like a pain fueled steam engine trying to make it up a steep hill. 'I hate you Greg, I hate you Greg' it was saying as it chugged on its merry way, trying to invade every facet of his life and make his life a misery.

I hate you too leg he thought.

"It's okay, the new meds are working fine." He paused. "How are you?"


	9. Chapter 9

If the cop had wanted his humiliation he had got it. Hands behind his back, he'd been dragged helpless from the cop car, lugged around like a suitcase, pushed, bullied and bits of him had 'accidentally' made contact with a number of walls and inanimate objects. Now he was currently stripped of jacket, belt and shoes and sitting in the drunk tank – cold, tired, bored out of his brain and, most importantly, in pain.

To make matters worse the bastard hadn't stopped singing all night. He looked over at the guy sitting on the bench, shooting him his best 'shut the fuck up look'. Why was it always Irish folk songs?

He pushed himself painfully to his feet, limped over and leaned against the cage, curling his fingers through the mesh. Attica indeed. This was no prison movie. This was painful and boring.

He looked up as the cop sauntered in, looking smug after a good nights rest. Bastard.

"Morning," said Tritter. "Sleep well?"

"Irish eyes are smiling," he spat back as he motioned to his cell mate. But in truth he was tired now. He wanted to go back to his nice orderly properly carpeted life where he was top dawg and got to do the tormenting, not be the tormentee.

And he was pissed. This cop had started it. Who knocks out a cripple's cane from under him? "I could make a complaint of harassment," he said.

"I'd be careful," replied the cop.

"Why?"

"Why Officer?"

He glowered at the smug son of a bitch. "Why?" he said stubbornly.

"Why Officer," said the cop patiently. "Didn't I make that plain last night?"

"Fuck you Officer."

Tritter gazed thoughtfully at House. "You are one stubborn bastard aren't you?"

"Some people think that's my best quality. What's yours?"

"The fact that I'm not the one in a cage." Nicely put he thought.

"I'm not the one who enjoys putting a cripple in a cage." He paused for added effect. "And gets off on it."

"I'm not the one who enjoys sticking things up peoples' butts… and gets off on it."

"You called me a bully. Well it takes one to know one doesn't it?"

"I'm just doing my job."

"Well then, either arraign me or let me go."

The detective smiled and took a sip from his coffee. "Under the statute I can keep you here for twelve hours if I deem it necessary. And I deem it necessary." He raised his cup in a mock salute: "Enjoy the concert."

The bastard slowly wandered off, leaving House gripping the mesh in impotent fury, powerless to do anything. His leg began to throb, complaining that it had been upright too long and where were its painkillers. Not coming leg he thought as he leant his head against the mesh. Not coming any time soon.


	10. Chapter 10

That picture of House wearing 'the hat' and Coma Guy:

He stopped. "Oh shoot!"

"What," said the Coma Guy.

"Big angry oncologist at two o'clock."

"Do you mean the pudgy dude next to the Volvo?"

He leaned back and gave Coma Guy a nasty stare. Wilson was his friend after all. "Hey. He can get all vicious and bitey when aroused you know."

"He's a doctor and he drives a Volvo?"

"He's lame." House turned back to Wilson. "Hi Wilson," he said jovially. Buff was definitely the way to run with this one.

Unfortunately bluffery didn't work with best friends who saw through you like a plate glass window. "You weren't planning to steal my car were you?" said Wilson calmly as he put his hands on his hips. Wilson: hands on hips thought House. Bad sign.

"No," he said cautiously.

"Then why do you have my car keys in your hand."

House took a hopeful breath, looked down at the keys in his hand and smiled badly. "I was moving it for you."

Wilson was not impressed. He grabbed House and pulled him away from Coma Guy. "Jesus House. You are already on bail, a very expensive bail that I paid for, and probation and now you are running off with both a patient and my car. Could you just have told me about the self destructive streak before you became my friend?"

House just shrugged.

"Where were you planning to go anyway?"

"Atlantic City."

"You want to go gambling?" asked Wilson in amazement.

House whispered fiercely. "There are medical reasons."

Wilson looked carefully at House and then at Coma Guy standing a few feet away. "Good medical reasons?" he asked quietly. The implications were clear.

"Yes."

"Okay, give me the keys. I'll drive."

"What?"

"Someone needs to attempt to keep you out of trouble and right now Christ knows what you are on."

…

"Whoo hooo. A road trip!" said House as he leaned back in the passengers seat. "We are so Thelma, Louise and Coma Guy."

"Shut up House."

…

The Coma Guy leaned forward and whispered in Wilson's ear. "You are a doctor and you really drive a Volvo?"

Wilson closed his eyes for a second and sighed. This was going to be a long trip.


	11. Chapter 11

Tritter puts the squeeze on House's best friend:

"I hurt dammit."

"Well look somewhere else House because I can't prescribe." He held out the piece of paper. "I am currently not allowed to prescribe medication… thanks to you."

"I have patients who depend on me House. Did that ever occur to you? Patients dying and in more bloody pain than you are."

He ran his hands through his hair and gripped the edge of his desk. "You fucking moron. I have never been so angry with you in my life. You have done a lot of stupid things House, but this is certainly taking the cake."

"Cuddy's taking it to the board tonight," he continued. "They are not going to like this. Of course I over prescribe. I am the head of oncology. What do you think half my job entails? I have people dying in agony on me left, right and center. They know I do it and they turn a blind eye."

He looked pointedly at House. "What is not going to look good is that 'I' have been over prescribing to the resident hospital drug addict who has pissed off nearly everybody in a five mile radius. If you were an eight year old dying of cancer I might have a chance. But one look at you and I'm screwed – and more importantly so are all those other people who depend on their pain medication to get out of bed in the morning and try and enjoy what little they can."

Wilson thumped the table in frustration. "Get out. Just get out. I can't deal with you today."

House didn't say a word. He just slunk out of the office, closing the door softly behind him. He stopped in the corridor and pulled a pill bottle from his pocket. He dry swallowed two pills. They tasted like shit. Fucking Tylenol.


	12. Chapter 12

Tritter puts the squeeze on Wilson part II:

He stared up the other man. He really hated this man. "Leave Wilson alone."

"Then own up. You'll plead guilty to the fraud charge. I'll get them to drop the intent to traffic and forget your tame oncologist ever lied to me. You'll get that lovely boss of yours to say you are off you are off your trolley and a junkie. I get my humiliation. And I'll see to it you get six months, a year tops in a state hospital institution." He smirked. "I hear the food's better there than regular prisons."

House pulled his arm back, but dropped it when the big man just smiled. Come on it said. Just bring it on cripple boy. Just give me an excuse to pummel your arrogant ass. Tritter took a step toward him and he automatically stepped back.

How pathetic was he. The cripple that couldn't even swing a punch because he knew he would be outclassed every time. All he had was his brain, his logic and his cutting words, but none of them worked on this type of bully. Tritter had size and statutes and handcuffs and prisons cells on his side. If he took a swing at him he'd fall into Tritter's world and be back in a cage before he knew it.

Tritter smirked and stepped backwards, heading to the door. "You can't win and you won't win. I thought Wilson was your bestest bud. You would really take him down with you? Think about it."

…

"I'm going to make a deal," said House quietly to Wilson's balcony door.

Wilson looked over at him, shocked. "What?"

House turned. "The cop," he said. "He came and said if I confessed and pleaded and publicly admitted I am a junkie he would stop the investigation and swing it so I only get a loony tunes facility. If I am a good boy I could be out in a year."

He looked pathetically hopeful, willing him to agree, but Wilson knew, that… for House, a year in any sort of 'facility' would be a death sentence. Having to stand up in court and admit he was an addict would be more crippling than another infarction. A guilty plea also meant he would never practice medicine again. That was the nail in the coffin.

He wasn't as 'World Vision' worthy as most of his other charges, but the big blue eyed scruffy wonder currently taking up far too much of his office was also his responsibility.

"No."


	13. Chapter 13

Wilson can't prescribe so House has to go searching for Vicodin elsewhere, but Doctor Cuddy is kickass:

"Want me to pull my pants down again?"

"Thank you no."

He began to unbuckle his pants. "Oh go on. You know you just love looking at that great big…"

"House!"

"I was going to say scar," he said doing his belt up.

"Fine. You want the drugs you come here for them," she countered.

"Oh come on. You are going to make me come here twice a day and beg?"

He waggled his cane. "When did becoming a cripple become even more painful and humiliating than it already is?"

"Since you became an addict."

He tried to wheedle. "I'm not." Cripple or not he was still a petulant bastard.

"Six hundred Vicodin at your house House. Wilson can't prescribe. You are facing criminal charges."

He had no answer for this.

"You come here and I will give you your drugs. And you better not be taking anything else. I'll test you if I have to. Do you understand?"

He looked everywhere but at her.

"Yes," he said eventually.

"Then be here at six. Now get out."


	14. Chapter 14

Wilson and Tritter offer House a deal: Two months at rehab or you end up in a cell:

* * *

The two men looked at each other. "Well that went well."

"About as well as I expected it too. I'll get Cuddy onto him. He'll cave."

"Doctor Wilson, may I ask you a question?"

"Knock yourself out."

"Why now? Why did you come to me now – after you shut down your practice? Why didn't you talk earlier? It could have saved you a lot of bother."

"Because he's my responsibility."

Tritter laughed sarcastically. "He's the addict. He's a grown man. He's the one doing this to himself - and to you. Why do you feel responsible?"

Wilson sighed and tried to explain as best he could. An impossible task he thought. He'd been trying to psychoanalyze House for years and he still felt clueless. "This job and these people are all the world he knows. I thought I could protect him, but you are making him turn on them and then they will turn on him. It will destroy his little world."

"Maybe it's time he woke up to the real world? He can't go through life in a Vicodin haze," said Tritter.

"You look at him and you see a big angry pill popping jerk. He's also a child. He has the morals, emotions and impulses of an eight year old. If he sees the ice cream he takes the ice cream and damn the consequences. He goes through life in a little bubble of HouseLand where he is lord and master and gets to make up the rules as he goes along. He doesn't understand the real world: your world. And we all try and keep him safe from it.

Wilson waved his hand in irritation. "Yes we are overprotective. We spoil him. Because he's…" Wilson tried to think of the right word: "special."

He pulled out his wallet and handed the cop a photo. "This is Andie. She's dead now - cancer, but House gave her three more years of life."

Wilson turned and faced the window, watching the snowflakes falling outside. "You have the power to take him away." Wilson snorted to himself. "But if you think he is lonely and miserable now that will be nothing compared to how he would be if you locked him up in a little cell with nothing and nobody."

He looked over at the cop. "It would kill him." He took a deep breath. "And I can't let that happen."

"Why?"

"I'm all he has."


	15. Chapter 15

Be warned vampires, witches, assorted teddies and Buffy… Season Five spoiler stories from beyond the grave using actual dialogue. If you don't want to know stuff like the ending of the fourth season of Doctor Who has Captain Jack, Sarah Jane Smith, Martha and Rose - and K9 - don't read. Oh, I just gave that away didn't I? And the next season is going to be even more fanwanky than ever cos the new producer is even more of a rabid fanboy than David Tennant.

I have no idea what actually will happen: trying to out guess a Writing Monkey is tricky, but here goes.

* * *

Wilson stuck an arm over the door, baring House access to his apartment.

"I have right to walk away from this House."

House slammed the door wide open. His hair was shorter, but he was still the same man. He smiled cruelly. "No Wilson, no you don't."

"Why the hell not?"

"You're an idiot."

Wilson sighed. "Tact… has never been your strong point has it? I presume that statement had a more cryptic meaning."

He gestured with his came. "You're needy, your eyes are beady and you're in pain. I know a lot about pain."

It was so off handed it was left field. "And you're my idiot friend so I'm doing what friends do."

Wilson gave a short cynical laugh. "Goodbye House." He shut the door.

House stood for a minute staring, thinking, noticing the panneling in the door. He turned and smiled. "See ya soon Wilson."

* * *


	16. Chapter 16

They pop up.

You like them, even though you don't really at first.

You want them to go away. They don't. They become part of you.

You are proud of them, even when they cream you at whatever.

You tell them they look sexy, even when they don't.

You ignore them, even though they are always there with you.

They are always the first person you call.

You wish you could tell them.

But you can't.

Because,

That would be telling.


	17. Chapter 17

Cold and Broken

WARNING - SPOILERS!

* * *

"Go away."

"House…"

He took another drag on his cigarette, but didn't look at her. "No." He gestured around the courtyard. "Why should I? I have everything I need here." He turned to the woman sitting next to him. "Isn't that right?"

Amber smiled and looked at Cuddy. "He does have a point," she said practically.

He smiled to himself. "See, she agrees with me."

Cuddy froze. "Oh no?"

"Yep, the drugs aren't working. I could probably conjure up my entire team and run differentials from here. But I don't think the straightjacket would give the right impression." He paused. "Although I could still keep the Internet business," he mused.

She knelt beside him, urgent now. "Isn't there anything you want to come back to, your life, your job, your stupid toys?"

He blew a smoke ring. "Nope." It was short and sharp.

She was angry now. "How about your best friend, you know – the one who came back for you?"

He stubbed out his cigarette and turned to her. "You mean the best friend I screwed over by killing his girlfriend?" He looked at Amber. "Tell him to come out here and see her himself."

He started to walk away, but stopped, staring at the ground. "But tell him to watch himself. I'm a one man killing machine.


End file.
